Bound by Blood
by Antipathy
Summary: A series of short stories and drabbles centered around Saya and Haji.
1. Always Falling

**My shoulder demon whispered this one in my ear and I couldn't resist. This, my first series of Blood+ fanfics, is a collection of drabbles and ficlets I'll update as often as I can.**

**I don't own Blood, though I'm working on getting the rights to Haji.**

* * *

He was always there to catch her.

Always. When she fell, when she was injured, he was there to catch her, hold her.

One time he fell. One time, and she could only scream his name as he fell down, down, clutching a flower in his hand. He died for that flower. Died for her. He was gloriously reborn, only to serve as he had died--always hurt, always falling. He lived and died for her desire.

He was her support, her one link to the first life she had known. She thought he was dead. He's only waiting, waiting to help, to support her once more.


	2. Nameless

**Set around the earlier episodes when Saya had her first sword.**

* * *

Saya stared into the heart of the flames. They licked up around the stone basin Haji had constructed, a living, breathing creature. A sudden thought took root.

"Haji?"

Her chevalier, her constant companion in silence, turned to regard her. "What is it?"

She cradled her half-sheathed katana in her arms, staring into the depths of the blade, into her reflection. The expression in her now-brown eyes was unreadable. "Does it have a name?"

He seemed to consider the question, weighing every word. Finally he said, "It is only a tool, Saya. A weapon to be used against your enemies. Something whose only purpose is to spill blood is unfit to receive a name."

She stared back into the flickering flames. "I see. Thank you, Haji."

What was she, then? What had she done to deserve a name?


	3. Repetition

**I hope I didn't make this one too confusing.**

* * *

Saya stumbled back in horror, her mind reeling. Her eyes squeezed shut even though the terrible images continued to flash through her head: the fight, the blood, the sightless blue eyes dimming. They looked so much like the ones her sister once had, the ones so full of light, light her sword and its gleaming red edge dripping with blood—her blood—had destroyed, extinguished...

Waves of guilt washed over her, pummeling her again and again. In her mind she was sobbing and wailing and hitting every inch of wall she could find, ripping herself apart, gouging out her eyes in hopes she would be blind of what she had done, _again..._

In reality, though, she was statuesque, perfectly still but for tremors racing through her. She could only stare at the crystallizing corpse of her blood, her kin. She hadn't done anything wrong, nothing wrong, all towards preserving lives. Why, then, did she feel this ripping pain inside?

Saya felt a presence behind her. Before she could move she felt a pair of strong, lean arms wrap around her. Clawed hands, the hands of a chiropteran, pulled her against him. They had never really disturbed her. They were a part of him—she could not help but love them, too.

She turned towards him and buried her head in his chest; she didn't think she would be able to look him in the eye at the moment. His wings surrounded her, embracing, enveloping as she sobbed in release, for all the world a silky white cocoon shielding her from the world.


	4. Assistance?

**A bit of HajiSaya fluff. :3 As always, I don't own Blood+; otherwise I'd have created a follow-up illustrating their reunion after her thirty-year hibernation. Too bad I can only write about it.**

* * *

Music drifted down from the floor above, twisting through the air like soft silk. It seemed to flow through Saya's fingers as a tangible substance, drifting, weaving notes together into something masterful. She sat back and inhaled it.

The music came to an abrupt halt. Saya, eyes closed, waited, expecting it to start up again, but it never came. What was Haji doing? He rarely did anything but play his cello when he was not with her. Even that was rare since she had woken up from her most recent hibernation just days ago, as if he wanted to make up for thirty years of solitude. Curiosity got the better of her and sent her creeping up the stairs.

Finally the door stood in front of her. She opened it and cautiously peeked inside. "Haji?" she called.

Her chevalier was nowhere to be found. A quick inspection revealed her room to be neat and tidy, save for a plain wooden chair and Haji's cello propped up against it. The bow lay haphazardly across the chair's surface.

The cello caught her eye. Evidently Haji would return shortly or he would have replaced it within the case.

Impulse drove her over to the instrument. Running her hands smoothly over the cello's polished surface, she noted the care with which it had been taken. Of course, she thought dryly, it was his only source of entertainment, besides watching over her; he would take utmost care in preserving it. It was a wonder it hadn't shattered within its battle-worn casing.

She picked up the bow and inspected the fine horsehair along its length. Still tightened.

Saya pivoted the cello around and sat in the chair, adjusting the peg to suit her height. She cursed Haji's towering figure as she struggled with the stubborn mechanism. Why did he have to be so damn tall?

Finally settled down, she gave the instrument an experimental stroke, pleased with the smooth sound it produced. She flicked through her mental repertoire of songs. It had been so long; which would be the simplest?

Finally it came to her. Saya grinned at the memory. Haji had always been frustrated with this one song, back in the life that seemed so long ago. He always screwed up a note, a certain part. She'd take it and throw it in his face.

Placing her fingers in their familiar positions, she reached down and began. Slowly, first, then gathering speed as she became more confident. Notes flowed from the cello, smooth and deep. It was going better than anticipated for over a century of inactivity. Music welled up from between her fingers, slow and fast, slick and discordant. She had forgotten this feeling of exhilaration to match her movements in combat.

A jarring screech. Saya winced, then cursed as she realized where she was: the same part that had always foiled Haji and sent him into fits of sulkiness.

She'd just try again. Backtracking, Saya jumped back into the song, preparing herself. And messed up again.

She tried again and again only to screw up at the same part—the exact same note that had gotten Haji. She winced at remembering the way she had teased him and fervently thanked the fact that he wasn't here to see her now.

It was as if she'd jinxed herself. She didn't feel anything at first; she was too busy concentrating on getting past that one little note, the one bar that stretched her patience to the limit. She was about to chunk the thing into the nearest wall when she felt a pair of hands on her shoulders. One was warm and soft, the other hard and edged. She froze.

She twisted her head around. "Haji?"

Her chevalier didn't say anything, only looked down at her. The corners of his mouth curled upwards; Saya scowled in return. He reached down and gently pried the bow from her unresisting fingers. He had gotten out of the habit of bandaging his chiropteran hand, only covering it when they went out.

It was then that he swung his leg around and climbed into the chair, her back to him.

"What do you think you—" He silenced her with a finger to her lips. She quieted instantly.

"Let me show you," he said softly, right in her ear. They were so close their bodies were touching. Saya felt her face heat at the position they were in.

Reaching around her, he placed his human hand over the neck of the cello and began to play. Soft notes emanated from it, putting her own unpracticed playing to shame. It was the same song she had been struggling with.

Slowly at first, then climbing in power, his playing intensified as it neared that spot, the Point of Doom as she had unaffectionately began to call it, closer and closer until finally reaching—

—and gone, smooth as silk. Haji had executed it perfectly, playing over it as if it wasn't there, only a small part of a grander piece. He finished the song.

Saya's eyes were closed, her breathing even. She might have gone to sleep if not for her hand slowly creeping up and grasping his own. "Don't you say a word," she whispered.

His only response was to plant a kiss right below her ear.

* * *

**That was certainly happier. The next one will be the same story through Haji's PoV. It might be a while, though; I'm working on my Bleach fic. Fluff is fun, crack is funner, if harder to execute.**

**-points down- review? I have waffles... #  
**


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